


Everywhere

by noxlunate



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:55:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4441985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxlunate/pseuds/noxlunate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anxiety always starts in Stiles’ fingertips. It’s a tingle, like when your foot starts to fall asleep and it turns into an itch to move it, to tap and fidget and twist his fingers into things</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everywhere

**Author's Note:**

> A little ficlet I originally posted [on tumblr ](http://im-notlookingback.tumblr.com/post/124371090586/i-literally-just-wrote-this-because-i-am-sterek) and wanted to stick on my ao3 too because after a week I've decided I like it enough to do so! Credit for the idea totally goes to [ this post ](http://inkskinned.tumblr.com/post/124193317954/one-time-he-and-i-were-sitting-in-bed-and-i-said)

Anxiety always starts in Stiles’ fingertips. It’s a tingle, like when your foot starts to fall asleep and it turns into an itch to move it, to tap and fidget and twist his fingers into things. It always progresses, shoots up his arms and into his chest until it’s tight and his lungs won’t work and he can’t _breathe_ , curled into himself with tears in his eyes because panic attacks? They make him cry and it’s fucking awful. So yeah, it progresses to everything else, but it always starts in his fingertips.

Anger starts in his stomach, a twisting, hot feeling that makes it feel heavy. It makes him feel like if they dropped him into the ocean he’d sink and sink, unable to float or swim with how heavy the anger is. 

Stiles has a lot of anger, he needs his whole stomach to carry it, sometimes feels like it takes over his whole body and mind. Derek nods like he understands when Stiles voices this, when he says, quiet and tentative, like for once he’s worried someone will judge “Sometimes it’s just in my stomach, other times I feel like every inch of me is so _angry_.” 

Stiles thinks it makes sense for him to understand. Derek, out of anyone Stiles knows, has the most to be angry about. He should have enough of it to fill the both of them until they’re bursting. 

Regret sits in his throat, blocking words he never said and feeling like a niggling urge to cough or the feeling when you yawn over and over again but it’s never quite _right_ enough to make the yawns stop. It blocks the windpipe, smothers things he should have said, would have said if he’d had enough time, if he hadn’t waited. It’s every thought of how he should have known better than to get Scott bitten when his best friend is half dead on the floor and bleeding out because of the newest monster of the week, it’s every silent wish that he had done something different, and it’s every time they got there too late to save someone. 

Responsibility, Derek once tells him, he feels in his shoulders. Stiles tells him he’s such a fucking cliche, and for Stiles he feels it in his lower back. It makes him feel old, like he needs to hobble over with how fucking much of it he has. He jokes about how with great power comes great responsibility and how he always wanted to be Spiderman, but he thinks that if this is how Peter Parker feels on a daily basis he’d gladly pass. He feels 90 some days, with the aches and pains from battles fought and injuries never healed, and the weight of carrying so much on his back. 

Magic, and Derek likes to say magic isn’t an emotion but Stiles claims Derek can suck it, he doesn’t _know_ what it feels like and to Stiles it feels as important as any emotion. Magic he feels in his scalp. It’s a warm trickle, like when the water pressure is too weak in your shower but the water is perfect temperature. It washes down over his scalp, over the back of his neck and through the rest of him. It’s one of Stiles’ favorite feelings, but it makes his lower back feel even worse, even more burdened occasionally, especially when Deaton’s looking at Stiles like his magic is the only thing that will save his pack. 

Embarrassment is in his cheeks, worry in his sternum, inspiration the tips of his ears, boredom in his mouth, it goes on and on. Some spots get more than one emotion, for instance optimism and hope can make room with anger in his stomach and exhaustion will sit on top of responsibility in his back. Pride can war with regret in his throat, and loneliness will keep his fingers company when anxiety is nowhere to be found. 

Derek asks him once where he feels love and Stiles smiles like the sun, rolls over on top of the other man and presses a kiss to his chest, right above his heart (it’s where sorrow sits in Derek, Stiles knows) 

“Everywhere.” Stiles says, contentment spreading over his shoulders like a warm blanket. “My love for you fills up every little piece of me like I’m a balloon and you’re fucking air. It radiates out like the sun, like there’s not enough room to contain it all. I feel love _everywhere_.” 

Derek shakes his head, like he doesn’t believe and Stiles pushes his shoulders down with his hands, fixes Derek with a firm look and kisses him, trying to make him feel the emotion in his lips. “ _Everywhere._ ” He says again, presses the words into Derek’s mouth and repeats it against his chin, against his throat, and his chest, into his ribs and the crook of his elbow. “ _Everywhere._ ” He says it over and over again until maybe Derek can feel it wrap around him, can feel it radiate out of him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes like it does Stiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Come check me out at my [tumblr](http://im-notlookingback.tumblr.com/) if you wanna see my weird posts!


End file.
